First Job
by JoAnnB
Summary: Before the Devil's Hole Gang...teenage years. Finally finished!
1. New Friends

First Job

By JoAnn Baker

Chapter 1

New Friends

Hannibal Heyes ran as if the devil himself was chasing him. Truth be told, he wasn't sure that wasn't the case. The old farmer had been waiting for him with a shotgun when he snuck into the chicken coop and nearly scared him to death when he started blasting—nearly scared all the chickens to death too.

Hannibal and his friend Jed had been on their own for several months after running away from Valparaiso Home for Waywards in eastern Kansas. Back at the home food had been scarce and paltry, but at least there had been something to eat. Here in the open Kansas grasslands there were only two choices; earn your food through a hard day's labor or steal it. Unfortunately, there weren't many farmers willing to take on two scruffy looking runaways as farm hands. The two boys had approached this particular farmer earlier in the week and offered to clean out his chicken coops in return for a few eggs. The older man had promptly ordered the boys off his land, saying he'd have no thieving scoundrels on his property.

"Why's he think we're thieves?" Jed had asked. "We ain't never stolen nothing from him."

"Not yet," Hannibal had replied with a gleam in his eyes. "If that old man wants to think we're thieves, then why not give him what he wants?" It had been easy the first night, to sneak in, grab two chickens and be halfway across the field before any lights went on in the house. The boys had feasted on roast chicken and corn on the cob; liberated from the same farmer's fields.

This night had been different. The farmer had been hiding behind the chicken coop with a shotgun.

When Hannibal finally arrived back at the campsite where Jed waited, the younger boy rose to greet him and stared open mouthed at his empty hands. "Where are the chickens?" he demanded. "I got the fire goin' and the corn ready for roastin'."

Hannibal, still working to catch his breath, slumped to the ground. "I miscalculated," he replied in dismay.

Finally, noticing his friend's labored breathing and sweaty appearance, Jed's attitude changed from annoyance to alarm. "What happened? He didn't catch you did he?"

"Do I look caught?" Hannibal replied indignantly.

Jed grinned. "You look almost caught."

"More like almost shot," Hannibal replied.

Jed's eyes darkened. "If I had a proper shotgun I could go huntin' and we wouldn't have to steal our dinner."

"Yeah, well shotguns cost money and money comes from jobs, which, if you've noticed, nobody is willing to give to a couple of 'good for nothings' like us."

"We could steal it," Jed said flatly, staring into the fire.

"Steal a shotgun? Now that'd be a little trickier than stealing a chicken. Most folks keep their shotgun right inside their house, next to their bed."

"No," Jed scoffed, "not the gun, the money."

"You wanna steal the money to buy a shotgun? So we don't have to steal chickens?" Hannibal stared incredulously at his younger friend.

Jed gave an exasperated sigh. "Well you're the one with all the plans! What do you think we should do?"

"I think we should go into that town a few miles over yonder and convince one of them shopkeepers to give us a job. There must be one that needs sweeping up."

Jed's face registered surprise. "None of 'em did in the last town we tried. With all them men back from the war lookin' for work, we're about at the bottom of the pile. Besides, I thought we were goin' straight from here to Dodge City and start winnin' all that money off them cowhands. You said all those cattle drives from Texas end up there and all them drovers are real anxious to take their pay to the poker tables."

"Well, Dodge City's still a long way from here and I'm hungry. Plus we need a stake if we're going to get ourselves into any big poker games."

Jed looked down at his dirty calloused feet. Both boys had been going barefoot since they had outgrown their shoes. "I reckon new shoes would be a good idea," he said thoughtfully, as he shoved the ears of corn into the coals.

"I want a nice shiny pair of black boots," Hannibal said as his face broke into a grin.

"Yeah? I want a gun, then nobody will give us any trouble," Jed said with a more serious look.

Hannibal's grin faded. "You think that's all you need?"

"It worked for that farmer didn't it? He had a gun and we're having plain corn instead of roast chicken."

"That's not the only way, we just have to have a plan that's all. Tomorrow I'll walk to town and figure out what we're gonna do." He lay back on the ground and looked up at the stars. "Tomorrow I'll make a plan."

Jed nudged the corn with a stick and rolled the ears over in the coals. He sat silently and watched his friend stare into the sky.

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Just after sunrise, the two boys began walking toward town. The five-mile walk was easier in bare feet, but they stopped on the outskirts of town to jam their calloused feet into their small and worn shoes. "If you want to get hired, you have to look presentable," Hannibal told his friend.

"I don't like this plan," Jed mumbled.

The two boys took in the sights of the town as they looked for employment opportunities.

"Hey," Jed stopped and pointed. "Look over there." He gestured toward two men lying in the alley ahead of them. "Do you think they're dead?"

As they boys got closer, they could see that the men were wearing Union army uniforms. They could also smell the alcohol that seemed to hover in the air around the men.

"Drunk," Hannibal said with a combination of relief and repulsion. "Probably spent their last dollar at the saloon and didn't have any left for a room."

"And they was on the winnin' side," Jed mused, "not like them others we saw last month."

Hannibal stared at the drunken soldiers and shook his head. "Yeah, they don't look much like winners to me," he said sullenly and then continued toward the center of town.

Jed tried the livery stable and the post office, while Hannibal tried the mercantile and the telegraph office. Neither boy had any luck.

"How are we supposed to earn an honest livin' if nobody'll give us a job?" Jed asked finally, kicking at the dirt on the street.

Hannibal gave him a nudge and nodded toward an apple cart peddler. Jed sighed and nodded, he knew the routine and an apple was better than an empty belly.

Hannibal strode up to the peddler and began an animated conversation, the content of which Jed never bothered to notice. When the man's back was to him and Hannibal was at the peak of his performance, Jed casually walked up to the cart and slipped two apples into his shirt, then turned and slowly sauntered back around the corner. Hannibal joined him after a couple of minutes and the younger boy tossed him one of the apples.

"Never even noticed they were gone," Hannibal said with a grin.

"There's a butcher shop on the other side of town. I'm going to try there. They're hiring," Hannibal said just before biting into his apple.

"How'd you know that? We've never been to this town?"

"I asked the apple peddler," he said simply.

At Jed's confused look he continued. "Well I had to ask him something didn't I? I figured it might as well be something useful. I'll meet you back here." With a confident grin, he set off down the street.

Jed watched him go and then wandered back toward the main street. He walked back toward the mercantile and leaned against the post outside the entrance. Inside the store, he could see stacks of dry goods, barrels of grain, and shelves lined with canned goods and other items. He was watching the storekeeper wrap up an older gentleman's package when a young cowboy walked toward him. The cowboy, who was leading his horse by the reins, looked out of place in this farming community. Although his clothes were a worn and covered with trail dust, they were sharp looking, and well-tailored. He wore a fine beaver Stetson and walked with a slight swagger.

"Hey kid," the man said quietly, "I'll give you a nickel to hold my horse for a few minutes."

"Why don't you just tie him to the hitching post like everyone else?" Jed asked dryly.

The man chuckled softly. "Ok, a nickel now and fifty cents when I come out, if he's standing right here."

"You'd pay me fifty cents? Just for standin' here?"

The man took a deep breath and blew it out quickly, beginning to lose his patience. "Looky here, kid," he said pulling a nickel out of his pocket and showing it to Jed. "Here's the nickel. I want you and my horse to be right here when I return. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," Jed said quickly, pocketing the nickel and taking the reins.

"Good," the cowboy said. "Right here," he repeated, pointing to the ground.

Jed nodded and watched him walk into the store. He turned to the horse and stroked it on the head. He stared at the saddle. It was genuine leather with a design of stars worked into it. This was no ordinary workhorse saddle. Jed was pondering on how expensive a saddle like that must be when the cowboy ran out the door. The cowboy jumped onto his horse and Jed could see that he had a handful of greenbacks clutched in his fist. He tugged the reins so rapidly they burned Jed's hands.

"Ow. Hey where's my…"

The cowboy rode off. The storekeeper scrambled up and started shouting. Jed quickly jumped back and flattened his body against the building. He didn't want the shopkeeper to think he was an accomplice. The storekeeper ran into the street yelling after the thief as he raced out of town. People looked up at the commotion but no one noticed the young boy that was quietly walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Hannibal asked as soon as he saw Jed approaching.

"I sort of just helped a guy rob a store," he said shakily.

"What?"

Jed explained while Hannibal listened and, at the end, the older boy shook his head nervously. "If anybody saw you with him, they might think you were in on it. We'd better get out of town."

"But we just got here," Jed began to complain, but then slumped his shoulders. "Ok," he agreed sullenly.

"All you got was a nickel?" Hannibal asked after a few minutes.

"He promised me fifty cents," Jed answered defensively.

The boys had only been walking for a few minutes when a hay wagon pulled by a large farm horse caught up with them.

"Hey, mister," Hannibal asked brightly as the driver slowed the wagon, "are you heading toward Dodge City?"

"Not all the way, I'm just going over to Bentley to take this load," the man said gruffly.

"We'll give you a nickel if you let us ride in the back, we won't be no trouble at all," Hannibal said smoothly.

The wagon driver scratched his chin for a moment. "Well," he said, "my back has been causing me some trouble lately, if you help me unload this wagon I'll call it square."

Both boys broke into huge grins and climbed into the wagon. "Thanks mister, you got a deal," Hannibal said quickly.

"You know, Jed, I've got a good feeling about Bentley. I think things might just turn around for us there."

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Hannibal and Jed walked slowly down the main street of Bentley, their feet complaining at every step.

"Unloading that wagon sure was a lot of work," Jed groused.

"I got us a ride to town, didn't I?" Hannibal retorted.

"So now what genius plan do you have?" the younger boy asked sarcastically.

"Hey, don't be mad. I'll think of something," Hannibal said.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Jed muttered, kicking at the dirt as he walked along. "Hey," he said suddenly, grabbing his friend by the arm and pulling him to a stop.

Hannibal glared at his younger friend in annoyance.

That's him," Jed whispered, though from this distance the three men he was gesturing toward were hardly likely to hear him.

"That's who?"

"The guy who robbed that mercantile back in the last town."

Hannibal stiffened and looked hard at the three men. "Which one?"

"The big one with the curly black hair, and the fancy Stetson like I told you 'bout."

The older boy studied the three men. The man Jed had pointed out was the largest; tall with broad shoulders and a stocky build. The second man had a slighter build, a thin mustache, and straight brown hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. The last man also had a mustache, but had shorter blond hair. All three men wore similar clothing, and had a dangerous 'air' to them that captivated the boys. While the boys stood watching, the black haired man glanced in their direction and recognized Jed. He leaned toward the others and said something. The three men laughed.

Before Hannibal could stop him, Jed had started across the street toward the three men. "Hey mister, you owe me fifty cents." Hannibal stared dumbfounded at his young friend's bravado.

The outlaw looked nonplussed at first, but then his face broke into a grin. "I reckon I do, kid, why don't you just ride along with us and I'll get it for you when we make camp."

Hannibal decided he'd better keep an eye on Jed and loped after him trying to look casual.

"I said you owe me fifty cents."

The black-haired outlaw gave the boy an appraising look. He looked from Jed to Hannibal then back to his friends. They seemed to be communicating, and one of them gave a slight nod. The black-haired man continued. "What's the matter? You and your friend hungry?"

Jed glanced back at Hannibal unsure at what his response should be.

" 'Course they're hungry. Since when are boys that age not hungry?" The young blond-haired cowboy piped in.

"Mister, I'll admit it, we are hungry, but why would you feed us?" Hannibal asked warily.

"I owe the kid here money, don't I? He did me a favor back in town. And, let's just say I admire his spunk walkin' up to me like he just done." He smiled, and adjusted his Stetson. "I'll introduce you to my friends. This here fella with the long brown hair is Dry Creek Jim, and my blond friend here is Bart. My name," he continued with a slightly mocking bow, "is William Conley. You could say I'm the leader of my associates here. And you two are…?"

"I'm Hannibal Heyes and my friend is Jed Curry. You can call me Heyes," he added quickly, thinking how using his surname sounded more adult.

"Alright Heyes, pleased to meet you." He shook hands with the boy. "And you as well, kid." Belatedly he added, "Curry."

The two others followed suit. The men strode off and the boys followed. Heyes was pleased at being accepted on his terms, but Jed was pondering the use of 'kid,' not certain if he was pleased with it.

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After eating, the boys and the men relaxed. "Kid, go get my saddlebags. I've got some smokes in them."

Jed looked at Bart. "Why d'you all keep callin' me 'kid?' I ain't but a year or so younger than Heyes."

"You know, Bart, our young friend has a point. "Kid's a name a man has gotta earn, so maybe we shouldn't call him Kid." Jim sat back as Jed rose to get the bags.

"What do you mean he has to earn being called Kid?" asked Heyes.

"All the best gunfighters are called 'Kid's'," said Conley. "You gotta be a good shot to be called that."

"I am a good shot," protested Jed. "My Pa said I was the best he'd seen with a rifle, and my Pa would know."

"You've gotta be fast with a six-shooter," Conley added, smiling at the boy's confidence.

Jed frowned slightly at this. "How do ya know I ain't?" he asked.

Bart slid his revolver from his holster and spun the chamber, then twirled the gun around his finger before laying it flat on the palm of his hand. "You just can't buy a gun like this one. Got it in the army, but it took me a long time to get it just right." He ran his fingers over the Colt six-shooter.

Jed looked on longingly.

"You ever shot a gun before?" Bart asked, his eyes narrowed.

"I told you I went huntin' with my pa."

"I mean a six-shooter like this one." He leveled the gun at the boy and waited.

"No sir, not a six-gun," Jed responded evenly, staring back at the outlaw, "but I'm a real fast learner."

Bart's eyes showed amusement and then his face broke into a smile. "Well, it's time you learned then. You come on with me here and I'll teach you," he said.

Jed jumped up eagerly and headed off with the outlaw. Heyes rose to follow.

"Not you, Heyes," said Conley, quietly.

"Heyes sat down again reluctantly. "I've never shot a pistol either. I want to learn."

"Don't worry, son, I'll show you. But we've got some business to discuss, first, man to man."

Heyes sat up straight, all attention now.

It was nearly dusk when Bart and Jed returned.

Conley and Heyes were still sitting together talking, and Jim had stretched out on the grass after retrieving a bottle of whiskey from his saddle bag.

"The kid's got potential," Bart said simply, and sat down next to Conley.

Conley eyed the other man curiously. The look on Bart's face said he thought the boy had a lot more than "potential."

Heyes jumped up and went to meet Jed. "Wait 'til I tell you what Conley has in mind," he said excitedly.

I gotta get one of those," Jed replied, ignoring his friend's words.

"One what?" Heyes asked, confused.

"A six-shooter," Jed replied, letting his gaze follow Bart as he set out to bed down for the night.

"How'd it feel?" Heyes asked, interested.

"Heavier than I thought," the boy admitted, "but good, like it was made for my hand," he added somewhat dreamily.

Heyes raised his eyebrows and looked curiously at his friend. "It's just a gun," he laughed.

"No, it's not," Jed said seriously. "Bart says it's got special balance, and grip, and—well all kinds of special stuff."

Heyes merely grunted.

"What did Conley want to talk to you about?" Jed asked finally.

"Well," Heyes' face lit up with a smile. "He says I'm perfect for an inside man."

"What's an inside man?" Jed asked.

"I'll get a job in a store in town, then check the place out and help plan the job," Heyes said proudly.

"You mean rob it." Jed stated bluntly.

"Well, yeah, maybe," Heyes said with a shrug. "Maybe not, I dunno. I'll have a job at least and then we can figure out what to do."

"Maybe they'll have guns there. You can get me one. Bart's gonna let me shoot his gun again soon. He says next time we'll do some real target practice—with cans and stuff," Jed said with a nod of his head.

Both boys' gaze went back to the outlaws who were settling in for the night. These men, with their fancy hats and confident manner, held a lot more interest for the two boys than the farmers and ex-soldiers that they had seen too many of in the last few months.


	2. The Plan

Chapter 2

The Plan

The next morning Conley and Heyes left for town, with Heyes riding Dry Creek Jim's mare. Heyes had almost forgotten how much faster traveling on horseback could be. Neither he nor Jed had been willing to risk a noose for that convenience. Glancing back at his friend, he felt a little guilty leaving Jed behind, but Conley insisted that it was dangerous for too many of the gang to be seen together.

"OK, Heyes, repeat to me what you're supposed to do when we get to town."

"The mercantile has a help wanted sign. I go there, 'present' myself to the owner and get the job. It's mostly stocking shelves and sweeping up, but I do anything else the owner asks me to do, and I do it better than anyone else could, which will be easy. That way the owner will begin to trust me." Heyes smiled smugly.

"Then what?" asked Conley.

"The owner makes a 'substantial deposit' at the bank in town on the first of each month. I need to find out where he keeps the cash in the store up 'til the day he deposits it. I also have to find the key if it's in a lock box."

"What do you do if he has a safe?"

"I watch him closely, but not so close that he knows I'm watching, and get the combination. I open the window the night before he makes the deposit for you and the others; we get the money and head out." He looked sideways at Conley. "We head out fast, I suppose."

Conley laughed. "You're right there, boy."

They rode on quietly for a short time.

"Conley, how do I let you know if I've got the key or the combination?"

Conley looked at Heyes as if the boy were stupid. "You come to our camp and tell me."

"That's going to take a long time on foot, and what if I don't find the key or combination until he's all ready to make the deposit, and I don't have time to get to you for some reason, like maybe it would look suspicious, or I have to stay late to work or something."

Conley looked at Heyes with new regard. "You are real smart, boy. You are going to go far."

Heyes sat up straighter on the horse.

"We're going to need a signal," Conley muttered to himself.

"How about this new handkerchief you bought me? I could leave it sort of stuck in the window the night I find the key or the combination, hanging down so's the owner won't see it." Heyes pulled out a brand new starched white handkerchief that he had found embarrassing and couldn't wait to get rid of.

"Smart, Heyes. Me or one of the boys will check the window each night. You put out that handkerchief as soon as you have the key or the combination and we'll be ready last night of the month. If something goes wrong, like he ain't gonna make the deposit or there isn't much loot, you fold it like this, and stick it in the window the last night of the month so we don't all bust in for nothing. Got it?"

"Uh huh." Heyes paused. "It sounds like you've been thinking about this job for a while. How come you didn't just ask to work at the store yourself?" He looked curiously at Conley.

"Tried to, but he wouldn't hire me. Jim and Bart tried too. I guess he didn't trust us," Conley admitted with a sly grin. "So he's smart. You gotta watch out. We got desperate and held up the mercantile in Cook. Except," he looked away and muttered, "That old coot had less than fifty dollars in his till."

"Well, then I guess us showing up was real good luck for you boys," Heyes said, flashing Conley a confident smile.

"Yup, I guess it was," Conley agreed with a nod.

Heyes wondered silently if meeting these outlaws would turn out to be a good thing for him and Jed. If the plan worked, they would finally have money for food and clothes. They might have enough to get them to Dodge City and into some high stakes card games. Heyes knew he was a good; he'd spent enough time playing cards back at the home to prove that to himself and anyone he played against. He wondered if the cowboys would think he was too young and refuse to let him into their games. He decided if he flashed enough money at them they would let him play. He smiled, imagining raking in a big pot of silver dollars. He briefly wondered how he would manage to hold on to such winnings in a wild city like Dodge, but he immediately put the thought out of his mind.

Conley and Heyes rode in silence the rest of the way to Bentley. Once there, Conley took charge and ushered the boy off to the barber shop to set the plan in motion.

Heyes had been amazed at how differently he was treated by the town folk after a bath and a haircut. Conley bought him a new shirt, pants, and a shiny pair of black boots to complete the transformation. Following a short interview at the mercantile, Hannibal Heyes began his first week of gainful employment. Three days into his job of sweeping up and stocking shelves, Heyes was certain that he did not want to be a shopkeeper. The proprietor was a man in his late forties with short black hair and a round face. He was a short man and had the soft look of a one who did not spend his days in the field or on horseback. Heyes was convinced that the man's sole form of exercise was gesturing with his right arm to the various sacks and barrels that he was ordered to lift, stack, or carry. Each time a farmer came into the store with a long list of needed supplies, Henry Wilson would smile and assure the customer that his 'boy' would load everything onto the waiting wagon. What the shopkeeper lacked in physical prowess he made up for with his sharp mind. Wilson ran his business like a well-oiled machine. He kept a running inventory of supplies in his head and seemed to know each customer's account balance nearly to the penny. He was meticulous about keeping everything in order and insisted that his stock boy follow each instruction to the letter.

"Here you go, Mrs. Smith," Wilson was saying. "I have just two pounds of sugar left this week and you'll be wanting some to make a cake for Billy's birthday next Friday. I don't get my next shipment in until Monday."

Mrs. Smith's face lit up with a smile. "Yes, I think I will take a pound of sugar. How nice of you to remember Billy's birthday."

Wilson pointed to the bags of sugar on the shelf at the back of the store and nodded toward the wagon on the street. "My boy will add that pound of sugar to your order and have everything loaded up while you see to the rest of your business in town."

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Wilson. You always think of everything," Mrs. Smith said, giving the shopkeeper a grateful look.

He really does think of everything, Heyes thought ruefully. He had been looking for opportunities to steal a key or leave a back window open at the end of the day, but so far Wilson had been watching him too closely. He knew he'd have to gain the man's trust soon or the bank deposit day would arrive and he'd be stuck working for another whole month. He knew Conley and his gang wouldn't be very happy about that either.

"You got a place to stay around here?" the shop keeper asked his new stock boy after they had closed for the day.

"I'm sleeping at the livery," Hannibal said nonchalantly.

"Um hm," the older man studied the boy for a minute. "You got family somewhere?"

"No, sir, I'm alone," Heyes replied, instantly wondering if he'd said the wrong thing.

Wilson narrowed his eyes slightly and looked into the boy's face. "You seem like a nice young man. How come you're not with your family?"

"They all died in the war," Heyes replied after a moment, holding the older man's gaze.

Wilson's expression turned from suspicion to understanding. He'd seen a lot over the past few years and this was nothing new. The boy went up a notch in his estimation. He could have turned to thieving and killing like other lost young men. Or searching for gold, now that was a foolish endeavor.

"Well," the shop keeper said scratching his chin, "You can sleep in the storeroom if you want. It's not much, but there's extra straw and some burlap bags, and it don't smell like horses."

Heyes' heart jumped. He knew this was the opportunity that the gang was waiting for but he didn't want to appear too anxious. Permission to be in the mercantile alone after closing time would provide the access he needed to find out where the money was kept.

"Thank you, that's real kind of you, Mr. Wilson. I'd like that."

"Alright then," the shopkeeper said with a shrug, "Just be sure you don't leave a mess."

Heyes took a deep breath and watched Wilson turn and walk toward his small home two blocks away. By the end of the week he hoped this would all be over and he and Jed would have the stake they needed to take them to Dodge City.

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"Hey, kid, get that pot of water on the fire will ya? Or we won't be havin' no stew for supper tonight." The outlaw was stretched out under a broad leaf maple whittling on a piece of wood.

"Bart, you said if I did your cookin' chores for a couple of days, that you'd let me shoot that gun o' yers again. It's been three whole days."

Bart laughed. "So it has, kid." He'd been impressed by the boy's natural instincts with the Colt, but he hadn't let the kid see just how impressed he was. "After supper, gather up some o' them cans over there and set 'em up on a log. We'll see what you can do."

Conley and Dry Creek Jim strode over to join Bart after Jed had gone to the creek for a bucket of water.

"I don't know why we're feedin' that kid," Jim complained. "He ain't no good to us. All we need is the other one."

"He might be of some use," Conley said, cryptically.

"Yeah, how?" Jim asked.

"Well, Bart says he shows some promise with a six-gun. We can always use another gun-hand if things get rough."

"He ain't got no gun," Jim pointed out.

"We can get him one," Bart offered.

"What other use you got in mind?" Jim asked.

"If his friend gets any ideas about running out on us, or quitting that job before we get what we want, he might just think twice knowing we got the kid here." Conley finished with a smug look.

Jim grinned, but Bart looked toward the creek and frowned.

Jed returned and hung the kettle of water over the fire. He looked at the bag of dried beans and slab of bacon and let out a sigh. These men might have horses and fancy guns, but they sure didn't have much food. He smiled briefly at the memory of the roasted chicken and corn on the cob that he and Heyes had eaten the week before. The smile faded instantly as he thought about the fact that his friend would be staying in town tonight. He would only have Conley's report of how Heyes was doing and when they would be ready to get the money. He was feeling discouraged when suddenly he heard the click of a gun and felt cold steel press against his neck. Jed froze.

"Turn around, kid," Bart growled.

Slowly, Jed turned to face the outlaw. Bart shook his head, spun his pistol around his finger three times and holstered it.

"There's two things you gotta learn, kid," Bart said quietly. "One is how to get the drop on a man. And the second, is how to _never_ let anyone get the drop on you. It don't matter whether you think you're among friends or not." He paused and stared at Jed. "Never let your guard down. Not if you want to live to see your next birthday."

Bart stared into the fire and then added, "If you wanna carry a gun, there's things ya gotta learn...an' how to pull the trigger is only one of 'em."

Jed nodded solemnly. Bart shifted his gaze to the water now boiling over the fire. "Better put the beans in, kid. We'd best be eatin' soon if we're going to have enough light to practice shootin' later."

Jed let out the breath he'd been holding and went to prepare dinner.

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"How much longer we gonna be sittin' around here?" Jim asked, after the four had finished their dinner of beans and bacon. "I don't know why we can't go into town and have a little fun."

"I told you," Conley said, "They're looking for us after that last job. If the three of us are seen hanging around Bentley, the sheriff might start asking questions."

"We barely got anything from that job. How hard are they gonna look?" Jim challenged.

"It's not worth the risk. All we have to do is wait a few more days and then we'll get enough money to go live in style for a while. Somewhere far enough away that nobody will be looking for us," he added.

"A bank is where the real money is," Jim said, his eyes challenging Conley to respond.

"Banks are too dangerous. We don't have enough men, or enough guns, to rob a bank."

"Maybe we should be out getting more men, instead of waiting for a boy to find a key to a lock box in a mercantile store," Jim said, harshly.

"If you don't like how I run things then you can leave," Conley said calmly.

"Yeah? Well maybe you're that one that should leave," Jim jumped to his feet and glared at Conley.

"Sit back down, Jim," the leader ordered.

Jim's hand went for his gun, but before he reached it, Bart's gun was leveled at him.

"You were told to sit down, Jim," Bart said, sternly.

"I was just talkin', that's all, nothing to get all upset about," Jim grumbled as he sat down.

"Right," Bart said, "Why don't you go do the dishes. The kid and me have some shootin' to do. Grab those cans and bring 'em along," Bart added as he headed away from camp.

Jed had been watching wide eyed as the exchange took place. He hadn't noticed Bart stand up and move behind Conley. He looked at Bart now, his eyes full of admiration. Nobody was going to take advantage of Bart, or anyone Bart wanted to protect. A gun commanded respect and the first man to draw his gun would always have the upper hand. Jed grabbed the cans and followed.

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Jed carefully lined up the six cans on a fallen log as directed by Bart.

"Stand back here," said Bart, drawing a line in the dirt with his boot. "We won't worry 'bout drawin' the gun from the holster today. We'll work on speedin' up and aimin'. You just hold it and shoot them six cans. Try shootin' them faster than last time. Let's see if you can do that and still hit some of them."

Jed nodded. The gun was heavy in his hand but not uncomfortable. He stared at the cans and pulled the trigger. He was more used to the recoil this time, and found he could pull the trigger repeatedly at a faster speed. The first bullet missed the can on the far left, but the second bullet pinged the side of the next can and sent it tottering off the log. He was already adjusting his aim and shooting the third can which flew back off the log, spinning, as he hit the fourth, fifth and sixth in rapid succession.

Bart drew in his breath. He walked over to the log and the cans to examine them. Sure enough the second can was 'skimmed' on its side. To his amazement the other four cans had holes going through them dead-center. He looked at the first can. The bullet meant for that can was lodged in the tree behind it, barely a quarter inch miss. He took in another breath and slowly exhaled. He shook his head.

"Somethin' wrong, Bart?" asked Jed, worried about his performance.

"Nothing wrong. You're pretty good, kid, you sure you ain't been practicin'?"

Jed grinned. "I don't have a gun, you know that. Sure would like one though," he added wistfully.

"Well, if that's how you shoot the second time you've held a gun then I don't want to be on your bad side after you've had some practice." Bart took his gun back from Jed and holstered it. "Now, I want to show you a couple of things about how to draw."

It was close to dark when the two started back to the camp site. "Can you let me practice with your gun during the day tomorrow?" Jed asked hopefully.

"No, that'd leave me naked, and I'm never naked, not even among friends."

Jed considered this for a minute. "I'll just have to get me my own then."

Bart nodded, "Yep, I think you need to get yourself a gun of your own."


	3. The Job

Chapter 3

The Job

Heyes' first night alone in the mercantile had been a disappointment. He had searched through drawers and shelves but found nothing. The till that normally sat under the counter had been removed and secured inside of a steel safe, located in a small locked storeroom, and the key to the door and combination to the safe remained secure with the old man.

"If I could just watch him open that safe," Heyes thought to himself, "I would at least know how many turns the combination has, and maybe even see the numbers."

Wilson arrived just after sun up, and to Heyes' surprise, brought a small pail filled with bacon and biscuits. "I figured you wouldn't have a way to fix anything to eat, so you might be hungry," he said, setting the pail on the counter and heading for the storeroom.

"Thank you," Heyes said, "I sure am real hungry."

As Wilson opened the door and stooped down in front of the safe, Heyes followed.

"That was real thoughtful of you," Heyes added, standing behind Wilson and taking a bite of one of the biscuits.

Wilson grunted an acknowledgement, and then returned his focus to the safe. Heyes watched as he turned the dial first left, three turns, then right two, then left again. Wilson turned the handle and opened the safe. Heyes could see several canvas bags that he knew held the gold and silver, and stacks of paper bills. Wilson removed the cash box and opened it, checking to see that enough change was there to cover the morning's transactions. Satisfied, the older man stood and swung the door closed, giving the handle a quarter turn almost as an afterthought.

Heyes smiled. He sat down to eat his breakfast in the storeroom while Wilson returned to the front to prepare for the day. Casually sitting near the safe, he studied the safe and took note of the position of the dial. "A quarter turn to the right would put the final number at about twenty," he noted, as he reached into the pail to retrieve another biscuit and a handful of bacon. The biscuits were dry, but they were better than nothing and Heyes was hungry. The bacon tasted good, and he savored each slice. Before he finished, Wilson called for him to hurry up and get to the front of the store. An early customer had arrived and needed help loading his wagon. Heyes groaned and stuffed the last biscuit into his mouth.

The morning turned busy as farmers and townsfolk passed through the store, some making small purchases and others stocking up with staples for the next few weeks. Several of the customers had children with them, and Heyes noticed that Wilson made a point of giving each one of the children a piece of penny candy from the jar on the counter as they left. Butterscotch, Heyes remembered the flavor from trips to the general store in town with his own father years before.

As noon approached, Heyes found himself drawn to the candy jar on the counter. Surely Mr. Wilson wouldn't mind if he took one. After all, he'd brought him breakfast that morning. No sooner had he popped the orange candy into his mouth than he felt Wilson grab his shoulder.

"What?" Heyes gasped in surprise.

"I don't tolerate stealing," the man said sternly.

"But, it was just…I mean…I'm sorry," Heyes said, forcing his eyes to the floor and fighting back his desire to tell the old man that he thought he deserved at least a piece of penny candy for all the work he'd been doing.

"I'll take that out of your pay this Friday," Wilson told him, releasing his grip on his shoulder and turning back to his work.

Heyes' feelings of regret about his plans for the storekeeper's money, which had been growing since the man's kind gestures of hospitality, began to dissipate. He needed to watch Wilson open the safe one more time. That afternoon, his wish was granted. His heart leapt in anticipation when Wilson called him over and indicated a heavy bag of coins on the desk.

"Help me carry that to the safe," Wilson said, taking another bag in his own hands. Heyes picked up the bag and followed obediently. The proprietor pushed open the door to the small back room where the safe was kept. Kneeling, he began to turn the dial. Heyes stood as close as he dared and watched intently. One, two rotations left, then stop. One and a half rotations to the right, then another half to the left. Without turning the dial again, the man swung open the door and set his bag inside.

"Here you go," Heyes interjected, leaning in quickly, then apologizing for bumping the older man's shoulder and stepped back awkwardly. Wilson gave him a surprised scowl and blocked the boy's view of the inside of the safe. Heyes smiled sheepishly and dropped his eyes to the outside of the door.

"Alright, back to work then," Wilson said, swinging the door shut and spinning the dial.

Heyes' smile widened. The last number on the dial had been nineteen. The first number must be within a few notches and the middle number halfway between. He couldn't wait for an opportunity to try and find the entire combination. His opportunity came an hour later, when a customer asked for one more bag of flour than they had sitting behind the counter. I'll get another, Heyes offered quickly. Wilson nodded and turned back to the middle-aged woman standing in front of him and began to scan the rest of her list.

Heyes passed by the door to the large back storeroom and went instead into the small room where the safe was kept. Kneeling before it, he fingered the dial gently. Turning slowly to the left, he gave the dial several complete rotations, and then stopped on number fifteen. He tried several different variations until at last he felt a slight resistance before the last number. A broad smile spread across his face as he slowly turned the knob. It opened. The boy's eyes widened when he gazed on the contents of the safe. He knew business had been good at the mercantile in the short time that he'd been employed, but he'd had no idea how good. It was late fall, crops had been sold and cattle had been driven to market. Farmers and ranchers alike were purchasing new tools and stocking up on supplies for the winter. Silently, he closed the safe and walked back to door. Checking for the owner's whereabouts, he peered out cautiously. Seeing Wilson engaged in conversation with the middle-aged woman, no doubt discussing the price of the bolt of bright checkered fabric that she held in her arms, he closed the door behind him

The proprietor eyed the boy strangely when he entered the room. "Where's that bag of flour you went to fetch? Mrs. Brown doesn't have all day."

Heyes blanched, he'd been so excited to have the chance to go to the storeroom alone that he'd completely forgotten the flour he'd been sent to retrieve. "I… I forgot… I'll go get that right away," he stuttered. Wilson frowned, but nodded.

For the rest of the day, Heyes concentrated on carrying out his tasks quickly and efficiently, all the while wondering how he was going to get through the locked door to the safe for which he now knew the complete combination. Conley could shoot the lock—definitely too much noise. His eyes fell on a new axe displayed between two nails hanging on the wall. He could simply break through the door, that wouldn't make too much noise. Messy. As his mind played out the possible alternatives, he couldn't help but continue to search for a plan that would leave no trace. He remembered boys back at Valparaiso telling stories about men who could pick a lock. He had tried a few times, but had not had success. If he ever tried something like this again, he was going to have to learn a few new tricks.

The hours seemed to drag on endlessly, but at last storekeeper locked the door to the safe, and, putting on his coat, bid Heyes a good evening. The boy watched from the front window, and as soon as Wilson turned the corner, he ran to the back window and hung out his white handkerchief, just as he and Conley had planned. Now all I have to do is wait until the end of the week, he thought happily. Jed and the others will come and we'll all head out rich men. Heyes made up his bed in the storeroom and fell asleep dreaming of what he would do with the money.

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Conley and Dry Creek Jim strolled into the clearing where Bart and Jed had just finished their nightly routine of target practice. Conley hunted around until he had found most of the cans that Jed had just sent flying from the tree trunk. He picked each one up and examined it. Every can was hit dead center. Not only was the kid fast, he was accurate too. Conley shook his head and whistled softly.

"That kid's gettin' pretty good," Jim commented quietly.

"Yeah, too good," Conley added dryly.

Jim squinted. "How do you figure?"

"A kid that good with a gun is gonna want to use it. If he don't draw attention from the law, then he'll get the attention of every gunfighter in the county."

"We could use him," Jim suggested. "The other one too. You said he was working out real good."

"How long before those two want an equal share? We don't pull jobs big enough to feed the three of us as it is, and I don't plan to start robbing banks—'sides we'd need a whole gang for that."

"Didn't think of that," Jim said. "Want me to take care of 'em after the job?"

Conley considered this for a minute. "Nah, no need, we'll ride out in different directions and meet up later. I'll tell Jed and Heyes to meet us at the river fork but we'll go to Kingston instead."

"What if they tell somebody?" Jim asked, a worried look crossing his face.

Conley stared at him incredulously. "What are they going to do? Go to the sheriff and say we didn't give them their fair share from the robbery?"

Jim looked down, embarrassed. "Oh, yeah, I see your point," he mumbled.

The two men strode back to their campsite where Bart and Jed had started heating up the beans.

After dinner Conley announced that Heyes had put out the sign that the job would go off as planned the next night.

The men at the campsite broke out a bottle of whiskey for the occasion.

"Drink up, boys," Conley said after taking the first swig. "We'll have plenty more after tomorrow night."

Jed settled down next to the men and took a swallow from the bottle. It burned his throat but he was learning how to swallow slowly and control his reaction so it appeared like he'd been drinking for years. The rush hit him after a few rounds and he felt light headed. He sat back and looked up at the star-filled sky. He could hardly believe his luck. Less than a month ago he and Heyes had been on their own, not sure where their next meal was coming from, and now he was drinking whiskey and learning how to shoot a six-gun. In a few days he'd have enough money buy himself a real steak dinner and new pair of boots—maybe even a new a hat with a fancy band. He sighed and reveled in the thought.

They next day Jed and the men packed their belongings and broke camp. After dark, they rode quietly into town. Jed rode double with Bart.

When they neared the mercantile, they found Heyes waiting for them outside the building.

"I left the back window open," he reported.

"Okay, slip on in and go open the front door for me," Conley directed. "Everybody else know their job?"

Bart and Jim nodded. Jim and Jed walked the three horses to the side of the store while Bart took up a position across the street where he had a good view of the front of the store. Heyes slid open the unlocked window and dropped inside. Conley walked to the front, keeping his body against the building. In a few moments, the door opened and Conley disappeared inside.

"You go over the livery, kid. Wait 'till you see Heyes and Conley come out, then you let all the horses out. That way it'll take 'em a while to round up a posse. Keep two out for you and Heyes," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Jed opened his mouth to say he wasn't a horse thief, but thought better of is. He and Heyes could never keep up with the others on foot and if they had to ride hard, chances are the outlaws would leave them behind rather than ride double.

Jed turned and headed toward the livery. Before he reached the livery he heard a shout from in front of the store.

"Hold it right there!" a man shouted. "You ain't robbing my store!"

Jed watched as Jim ran into the street and fired a shot. Then another shot sounded and Jim fell back and hit the ground. Bart fired two shots at the man in the street, forcing him to take cover behind a wagon.

Jed ducked behind a water trough, his mind racing. He gasped when the man behind the wagon fired again and this time Bart fell to the ground. Jed raced to Bart and pulled him behind a barrel.

"Are you hit bad?" Jed asked.

"My leg," Bart answered, firing another shot toward the wagon to keep the man pinned.

"Get outta here. Take my horse."

"I ain't leaving without you," Jed said emphatically.

"Don't be a fool, kid. Those shots will have waked the whole town. I ain't ridin' anywhere with a bullet in my leg. He sighed deeply. I ain't never killed anyone—'cept in the war. I reckon they won't hang me. They'll just lock me up for a while. Might even get better food than them beans we been eatin'," he added with a grin. Jed watched as the grin turned to a grimace and the older man groaned.

Then Bart shoved his gun toward the boy's hand. "You'll need this," he said urgently.

"I couldn't take that, it's yours and-"

"Shut up," the outlaw interrupted. "You need it more than I do. Besides, they prob'ly won't let me keep it anyway," his voice trailed off.

Picking up the gun and holding it briefly, almost reverently, he aimed at the wagon the old man had taken cover behind, and fired two shots. His bullets hit the ground just in front of the wheel like Bart's had done, then raced across the street to the horses that waited anxiously. Two? Jed immediately saw that one of the animals was missing. He must have run off when the gunfight started. Although the two remaining animals shuffled nervously, they didn't look panicked. Maybe soldiers' horses, he thought, grabbing the reigns form the hitching post and swinging onto the Bart's black mare.

He heard voices shouting from down the street and another shot rang out. Jed fired a shot in return, aiming high. He could see two men running up the street and knew he was running out of time.

He grabbed the reins of Jim's gelding and raced down the street to the back of the store, hoping Heyes and Conley were there.

"Heyes," Jed called, squinting and looking for movement in the shadows.

Heyes emerged from the back door, carrying a canvas bag. He quickly jumped onto the back of the waiting horse.

"Where's Conley?" Jed asked anxiously, looking back at the store

He took off at the first sound of gunfire. Yelling something like "Every man for himself," Heyes muttered in disgust. "Took most of the money too."

Jed stared back at his friend. "You mean he didn't wait, he just took off?"

"That's what I said." Heyes kicked the horse in the flanks and took off at a run.

Jed followed.

"What happened back there in the street?" Heyes asked as soon as they had cleared the alley.

"The old shopkeeper was waiting with a rifle. Jim's dead and Bart got hit in the leg."

Heyes wrinkled his brow and glanced at Jed with apprehension. "Anybody else get hit?"

Jed shook his head. "No. That old shopkeeper was a pretty good shot. Bart coulda killed him, but it wouldn't have done no good. He gave me his gun and told me to take off."

Heyes blew out a breath with obvious relief.

"Wilson must have suspected something. I underestimated him. I won't make that mistake again."

"Heyes?" Jed asked after they'd slowed to a trot near the river. Do you think these horses we're riding were stolen?"

"We just committed armed robbery," he said with a nod toward the Colt his friend had tucked into the back of his belt. "I'm not worried about stolen horses."

"But you weren't armed," Jed said.

"Well the others were, and shots were fired. One man's dead."

The realization hit Jed in the pit of his stomach. "I fired some shots," he said slowly.

"But you didn't…" Heyes turned to search his friends face.

"No," Jed added quickly. I didn't hit anyone. I just fired some shots for cover so I could get the horses."

"If anyone gets killed during a robbery, all the men in the gang are guilty."Heyes explained.

Jed took this in and nodded slowly. "Then I reckon we better make sure that don't happen."

Heyes looked thoughtful for a minute and then said resolutely, "I reckon we will."

They guided their horses into the shallow river bed and walked upstream.

"How much you think we got away with?" Jed asked finally.

"'Bout two hundred."

"Two hundred dollars?" Jed asked, his eyes opened wide with amazement and his face brightened.

"That oughta get us a buy in to one of those card games in Dodge, don't you think?"

"It would, Jed, but I have a better idea."

"Yeah? What?"

"I'll let you know," Heyes replied with an enigmatic grin.

"Heyes, just one thing's bothering me," Jed asked, after they were riding again on open ground.

"Just one?" Heyes asked.

"It's about Conley. If he was a good leader, I'd a thought he'd a waited to see what happened to his men. Get 'em out if he could."

"Yeah, that's what a real leader woulda done," Heyes said, seeing his young friend in a new light.

I ain't no leader, Heyes," Jed replied. You'd make a good leader though," he added with sincerity.

"I was thinking, more like partner?" Heyes raised an eyebrow.

Jed smiled. "Partner'll do," he said after a moment.

"You want to let me in on those plans of yours, _partner_?" Jed asked, placing emphasis on the last word.

"Well, getting money outta that safe was pretty easy. I was thinking we could do it again."

Jed considered that for a moment and then nodded. "I reckon we could, 'specially now," he said, reaching his hand back to make sure the gun was securely tucked into his belt.

Heyes shifted uneasily in his saddle. "You want to tell me if you know what to do with that thing, Jed?"

"I can hit what I aim at," Jed replied smoothly.

"Heyes?" he asked a minute later.

"What?"

"Call me Kid."

The End


End file.
